My Mornings

I wake up in the earlymorningThe same like everymorningSince I've told that I'mdifferentwith the shearingragethat rips through me like a knifeThey are the broken pieces ofyesterday, and the pastThat i will hold forever

Planted firmly allover my bodygushing out blood like a streamdried up blood all overmy prison cellthat you might callhomeI try to forgetthe painby trying to ripout the broken pieces

But when i tryall that's leftis a hole...the deep hole ihave insidethe one ...